


Five Times Merlin was the Worst Manservant Ever (and One Time He Wasn't)

by kerryblaze



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerryblaze/pseuds/kerryblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin proves time and time again that he's not cut out to be Arthur's manservant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Merlin was the Worst Manservant Ever (and One Time He Wasn't)

**Author's Note:**

> My first Merlin fic written after S1. Thanks to hardticket for the beta.

**  
_I. The Prince's Bath_   
**

"Merlin!"

Arthur has to shout two more times before Merlin finally shows up, out of breath and looking like he isn't sure if he should be concerned or annoyed.

"What's wrong?"

He glares at Merlin as he dips his fingers into his tub and splashes water over the side. "How am I supposed to take a bath?"

Merlin looks Arthur over, smirking. "It is customary for you to disrobe first."

"That's not…" Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose and puffs it out of his mouth. "It is also customary for bathwater to be warm - not _cold_."

"So that's why you were planning on taking a bath with your clothes on?"

"Why are you so obsessed with me not being naked?"

Merlin turns a beet red colour. "I'm simply doing my duty and assisting you in preparing for your bath."

"Your first _duty_ was to ensure that my bathwater was warm."

"It was warm an hour ago when you ordered me to draw it. It's not my fault you took so long returning to your chambers."

Arthur growls in frustration. "Merlin, why must you always be so insolent?"

"I'm not. I'm simply pointing out – "

"It is your job to foresee my needs and to be prepared for changes in my schedule."

"I'm supposed to be a mind reader, then? I don't think the King would like that."

"Oh, just shut up and refill my bath with _warm_ water and I'll undress if it makes you work quicker!"

Merlin rolls his eyes.

It takes him over thirty minutes to empty the tub and refill it with warm water.

Arthur sits naked by the fire the entire time.

 **  
_ii. The Prince's Sword_   
**

"Merlin!"

Merlin rushes to Arthur's side. "What now?"

"What is this?" Arthur asks, pointing at his sword.

"Your sword, sire."

"I know that, Merlin. I'm wondering if you do."

"It's definitely your sword. I'm sure of it."

"If it's my sword, why is it dull?"

"Um, because… it hasn't been polished and sharpened?"

"And why hasn't my sword been polished and sharpened?"

"Because you didn't ask me to polish and sharpen it."

Arthur stares at Merlin for a long moment, truly gobsmacked at how entirely stupid – or maybe it's stubborn – Merlin can be. Merlin smiles at him with a wide goofy grin until Arthur decides on stupid and sighs. "How long until you catch on? It's your duty to anticipate what I need at all times. Do I have to tell you every time that after training my sword requires care?"

"I'll tend to it after I –"

" _Merlin_ , my sword is very special to me. You will tend to that first."

"I'll ask one of the other servants to take care of the sword. You already ordered me to -"

"No! Handling my sword is a big task, and you’re the only one who knows how I like my sword handled… and why are you grinning at me like an idiot? You're in no position to…" Arthur's brain finally catches up with the innuendos behind the conversation and he snaps his mouth shut. Through gritted teeth, he says, "Just take care of my… just… just do your duties and don't make me tell you again!"

Merlin's smile is totally out of control now. "If it's so special to you, sire, why don't you polish your _sword_ yourself?"

Despite his irritation, Arthur can't help but laugh softly and shake his head. It's a mystery to him how Merlin could change his mood so quickly and make him forget that he is supposed to be a prat.

Arthur picks up the sword and matches Merlin's cheeky grin. Even surpasses it, he bets. He holds it out in front of him, rigid and at waist level. "Because I like to watch you polish it."

 **  
_iii. The Prince's Blood_   
**

"Merlin!"

Arthur kicks the leg of the nearest chair, sending it skidding for a few feet before it teeters and topples over.

He needs Merlin – though he isn't sure for what particular reason – but Merlin won't come because he's back in his chambers, suffering from a poisoning. Merlin… _that bloody idiot_ … went and proved himself - _again_ \- to be the worst servant Arthur has ever had by foolishly assuming that Arthur needed his help in the first place. Everyone in Camelot, except Merlin apparently, knows that Arthur can hear an arrow coming towards him from fifty yards away and his reflexes are legendary. He had already been diving out of the way when Merlin made his move, jumping in front of Arthur and taking the arrow in the shoulder.

That leaves Arthur with replacement servants only marginally better than Merlin at their duties, but not as entertaining. The one who had prepared his bed left in tears after Arthur had criticised him for choosing the wrong bedclothes, which was an improvement from Merlin, who often didn't lay out Arthur's bedclothes at all. But there had been no witty retort or flash of defiance in the servant's eyes like he would've seen in Merlin's.

Arthur folds his arms across his chest and cracks his jaw. He tries not to think about missing Merlin when he's only been gone for one night or how he would feel if Merlin was actually gone forever. He fails miserably at that, and soon finds himself pacing and looking for something else to kick when the door flies open and Morgana appears, looking upset, with Gwen behind her, looking just as concerned.

"Arthur, Gaius needs you," Morgana says. "He said that the poison is magical and was intended for you. He's not sure why it's affecting Merlin, but Merlin won't make it through the night, unless... Gaius thinks the cure will need to contain a drop of your blood."

The final part is said with hesitation as if Morgana thinks that Arthur could possibly say no. There is no hesitation in Arthur at all. He reacts immediately, brushing by both women and heading straight for Merlin and wondering what alternate universe he's fallen into where the Prince of Camelot runs through the courtyard in the middle of the night for his servant and not the other way around.

 **  
_iv. The Prince's Name_   
**

"Merlin!"

"There's no need to shout, Arthur. I'm right behind you."

His father's head snaps around, but he doesn't glower at Merlin. His angry eyes fix on Arthur, waiting for his son to react appropriately at Merlin for over stepping the servant-master boundary in front of visiting royalty.

Arthur avoids Merlin's eyes when he looks past him at the guards. He nods and the guards step forward. "A night in the dungeons should teach you how to properly address the Prince of Camelot."

Merlin lets the guards take him without any protest, making Arthur feel guiltier. So later, after the feast, he takes food and a blanket down to Merlin.

"You really are the worst servant that I've ever known," Arthur says as he unlocks the cell door and steps inside.

"Sorry," Merlin says. "I shouldn't have …"

Arthur waves his hand dismissively. "I thought you'd prefer this over the stocks."

He places a tray of food and a jug of water on the table. Merlin reaches by him, picking a few grapes off the vine and popping one into his mouth.

He looks at Arthur gratefully as he chews. "I'd rather be eating fruit with you than having it thrown at me."

The _'with you'_ part doesn't go unnoticed by Arthur, and guilt swells up in him again for punishing Merlin simply to please his father. He grabs an apple and bites down on it. After he swallows, he straightens his back, attempting to look serious and authoritative. "Merlin, I know there are times when you and I… well, when we're not exactly following the customary etiquette between a master and servant… and I don't mind that – most of the time. But while in the presence of my father, it would be prudent of you to attempt to maintain a certain level of servitude."

Merlin nods. "I'll try."

"I guess that's the best that I can ask for when it comes to you." Arthur undrapes the blanket from over his arm and places it on the table. He smiles at Merlin, walks out of the cell, and locks the doors behind him. "I take no pleasure in…" He stops, realising what he was about to say would've sounded incredibly like his father. "I don't believe in everything that my father does, but he's still the king."

"I know, Arthur."

Arthur stays on the other side of the bars, watching as Merlin takes the blanket and tray of food and settles on the floor. He marvels how Merlin looks like it is actually his choice to be there. He thinks his servant is either incredibly daft or incredibly proud.

"Will you be all right?" Arthur asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Merlin says casually. "It's not so bad. Gives me time to think."

"Well, that'll be a first."

Merlin snorts as Arthur turns his back and leaves.

 **  
_v. The Prince's Heart_   
**

"Merlin!"

Arthur kicks his horse's flank and weaves and dodges trees as he chases Merlin on an out of control horse.

"Don't let go of the reins!" Arthur screams just as Merlin's horse halts and begins to buck wildly.

Merlin stays atop of the horse for only a few seconds before he's thrown to the ground, and the horse bolts into the forest. Arthur dismounts and runs over to Merlin's body twisted in a weird angle on the ground.

 _Please… please, don't let his neck be broken._

"Merlin…" Arthur grabs Merlin's shoulder and squeezes, afraid to shake him. "Merlin…" He puts his hand on Merlin's back and feels it rise and fall. Relief washes over him. "Come on, Merlin… wake up."

Merlin's hand twitches and he groans. And Arthur's heart stops hurting.

"Can you move?" Arthur asks, resting his hand lightly on the small of Merlin's back.

"I think so." His face twists in pain as he rolls over. "I think my arm's broken."

"Your arm is the least of your worries. You should see your face… looks even more horrid than normal."

"Bloody branches," Merlin says.

Arthur winches. He knows what a smack in the face with a branch feels like.

"I'll be right back," Arthur says, standing. He runs to his horse and rummages in his saddlebag for his spare tunic, which he immediately rips in half, and a healing ointment. He returns to Merlin and puts his arm in a makeshift sling. "Can you stand?"

Merlin nods and, with Arthur's help, he stands, clinging to Arthur with his good arm. "It was a snake – I think."

"What?"

"That spooked the horse."

 

He pulls off his black leather gloves and takes the lid off the ointment. "Let me put this on some of the worst ones. It'll take away some of the pain." He digs his index finger into the healing balm, covering the tip, and hesitates. He's standing so close to Merlin that he can see the variances of grey in his blue eyes. He swallows, suddenly feeling nervous and awkward, and everything a Prince shouldn't feel around a mere servant.

He daps at a particularly nasty gash above Merlin's eyebrow, concentrating so hard on being gentle that he doesn't notice that Merlin is staring intently at him until Merlin makes a soft humming noise.

"Thank you," Merlin says while he maintains a steady eye contact.

"You're welcome." Arthur swallows again, his throat grows drier. "You know… you should be doing this sort of thing for me and not the other way around."

"Sorry. I really am the worst manservant ever – aren't I?"

He wants his response to sound sarcastic and mask the truth, which is that he'd felt his heart breaking, and his whole world falling apart in those few moments when he'd thought that Merlin was dead. But it comes out soft and full of affection. "Truly, Merlin, you are."

 **  
_vi. The Prince's Needs_   
**

"Merlin!"

Merlin drops the blanket he's holding and spins around.

Arthur shakes his head. "I told you not to come here."

"I came anyway." Merlin stands taller, sticking his chin out, obvious signs that he is prepared to argue _and_ not going to leave no matter what Arthur says.

"It's too dangerous here. We could be ambushed at any moment."

"Other servants are here."

"Their –"

"Lives are worth less than mine?"

"No, that's not what I…" The adrenaline that had been pumping through Arthur's veins throughout the battles of the last several days seems to instantly drain out of him. He smells food. His stomach churns so hard with hunger that it feels like he wants to vomit. "Is that stew?"

"Yes," Merlin says as he approaches Arthur.

He removes Arthur's armour with expert ease. Arthur feels odd without it. He's carried the weight of it for two days on his shoulders, along with the heavy burden of battle, and with it gone, he feels naked and entirely too unprotected.

Merlin rests his hand on Arthur's back, between his shoulder blades and rubs in a light circular motion. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Of course, I'm fine."

"There's a change of clothes for you on the bed." He turns his back, giving Arthur privacy to change.

The clothes are dry, smell new and clean, and feel soft against his aching skin. It makes him feel a bit normal again.

Merlin points at a chair, lined in the same fur as the one in Arthur's chambers. "Sit." He pours stew from a cauldron into a bowl and hands it to Arthur. "Eat first and then I'll clean those wounds."

The stew tastes as good as any served at the castle. "Did you cook this?"

"Yes," Merlin says, pouring water into Arthur's goblet. "Is it acceptable?"

"It'll do," Arthur replies and starts to shovel in spoonfuls, barely chewing, as Merlin vanishes through the tent flaps with the armour. Arthur eats and drinks and listens to Merlin instruct another servant on how to polish his armour.

Merlin returns to the tent, but Arthur immediately sends him back out with the cauldron of stew and instructions to share it with the soldiers on guard duty.

While Merlin's gone, Arthur wonders why the tent is so warm and comfortable. Outside it's cold and damp. The candles aren't enough to heat the area. He stops thinking about it when Merlin returns and sets to work cleaning Arthur's face and hands.

It seems almost like a ritual the way Merlin lifts each hand, wiping it with long even strokes until the flesh, no longer hidden by dirt and blood, is a light pink, then places it back down on the arm of the chair softly. He opens the rag over both hands and cups Arthur's face with it like a lover might cup his beloved's.

Using his thumbs, Merlin rubs along Arthur's cheeks with tender strokes. Arthur holds his breath, half expecting Merlin to kiss him. It feels like the sort of intimate situation that will lead to a kiss.

But it doesn't and Arthur doesn't want to think about what the pang of disappointment he feels really means.

"Let me know if I hurt you," Merlin says as he begins applying a healing ointment to Arthur's open wounds.

The ointment smells of lavender and mint. It stings at first touch, but numbs the skin as it settles in.

Outside of the tent, the camp is quiet. Though the battle has been won, there isn't much to celebrate. Camelot has been protected from the threat, but there are more dead than survivors. Arthur silently goes through the list of his fallen knights, trying to remember the names of their mothers, fathers, wives, and children.

Now standing behind him, Merlin places both hands on his shoulders and begins to knead his muscles, gently at first, then with the right amount of pressure to make him hum and moan in pleasure. He lets his chin fall to his chest. It hurts and feels fantastic at the same time. And he never wants it to end.

"Am I hurting you?" Merlin asks.

"No," Arthur says. He wants to shake his head too, but finds that he doesn't have the strength. "Exactly what I needed. You're good at this."

"You must be exhausted or I must be hallucinating because I think you just gave me a compliment."

"Um… I doubt it… must be that mental affliction… of yours."

Merlin's hands disappear and Arthur hears the sounds of a pillow being fluffed.

"Come on, Arthur. Time to sleep." Merlin tugs lightly on Arthur's arm until he stands. He leads him to bed. Arthur doesn't argue - couldn't argue even if he wanted to, exhaustion has settled down deep into his bones.

Once he stretches out on the bed, Arthur closes his eyes, and his body, thankful to be in a position that isn't standing or crouching, immediately relaxes.

Merlin places a blanket over him. "Comfortable?"

"Mmmm..."

The expectation of a kiss occurs again, but passes when Merlin lies on the floor next to Arthur's camp bed.

"I'll be right here through the night. Just wake me if you need anything."

"Why, Merlin, I do think that you might be getting the hang of this servant thing."

Merlin makes a small noise of agreement.

"I'm still angry. You disobeyed my order not to come."

"I'm sorry, sire," Merlin says. After a brief pause, he adds, "I just thought you might need a," Arthur thinks it at the same time Merlin says it, "friend."

And it all becomes very clear to Arthur.

Merlin is only a good _'servant'_ when he isn't being a servant at all.


End file.
